


Wouldn't It Be Nice

by Skyepilot



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: And yes that, Angst, Because it's true, Coulson at a tailor, Coulson loves Skye so much it hurts, Coulson loves his suits, Driving, F/M, First Kisses, Flirting, Hydra, Kissing, LA, Lola - Freeform, Los Angeles, No Sex, Older Man/Younger Woman, Romance, Shipscuses, Shopping, Sillyfic, Skye trying on dresses, Talking, UST, for a reason, true romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-25
Updated: 2014-07-25
Packaged: 2018-02-10 08:18:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,880
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2017734
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skyepilot/pseuds/Skyepilot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Shipscuses.  Inspired by RosaleeDonvoan and her cuddly Coulson.  Coulson goes to the tailor for a new suit and gets more than he bargained for.  And also Bogey/Bacall feels.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wouldn't It Be Nice

**Author's Note:**

  * For [RosePark15](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RosePark15/gifts).



Coulson had destroyed at least three suits in the last month.

One was on a mission that should've been fairly routine, but he'd offered his jacket to Lisa, the sobbing girlfriend to HYDRA Harry. They'd pursued, she had stayed there on the front porch. And he knew he'd never see it again.

That one had been nice. The hint of green thread mixed in with the gray, and maybe even the quality of the light in the shop that day when he'd chosen the fabric, now that's he's recalling it. 

But, whatever.

Another had been trashed, because, she had almost lost it, and he had definitely lost it. And Ward got away. 

Again. 

Actually, Ward owed him a few suits, and he liked thinking about settling their score along those lines, instead of the other thing.

But, this was the last straw.

He stalked across the sand, jacket in hand, and threw it in the City of Santa Monica's trash bin (with a bit more force than was necessary) as he walked back across the beach to Lola parked on the side of the PCH with Skye just standing there, staring.

Just wasn't in the mood for a HYDRA asshole with a rented Ferrari. A guy in love, not just with bullets, but with a grenade launcher. 

What were the chances of them meeting up on the PCH as they drove along the coastline? Just as he'd turned on the Beach Boys singing, "Wouldn't It Be Nice"?

Really, the convolution of all of that.

Absurd. 

They'd been hunting him earlier and he was clearly, vindictive. Coulson realized that now.

Usually, these guys just wanted to escape and instead he had hunted them. It felt like a dime-store novel. He heard the cop sirens coming from past the pier.

They'd better get lost before the news helicopter showed up.

L.A. 

"Wow, okay," Skye finally said, as she opened Lola's door and got in just as he did.

"Should I be worried about?"

Coulson paused. Swallowed his lower lip.

"Nope," he sighed into the air, and then turned to look over at her, slipping his Ray Bans on.

"Just time for a new suit."

****

"It's just a suit," she said flatly, as they walked down the sidewalk.

"Do I look like I wear just a suit to you?" 

"No," she answered, teasing. "You collect old stuff, so why not suits?"

He cocked his head at her, beginning to think she was toying with him a little.

"And anyway," she sighed, stopping and slapping her hands against her sides and shrugging. "Can I even go in a place like that dressed like this?"

Coulson blinked, looked over at her. What was wrong with what she was wearing? A flannel button down, jeans. Her boots. Like she always did.

"You can wear whatever you want," he said, assuredly.

Then he realized, just behind her, there was a clothing store with a few inexpensive looking, very short dresses in the front window. 

How convenient.

Skye's huge brown eyes looked back at him innocently.

"Okay," he said, surrendering, putting his hands in his pockets. "After all, that grenade was meant for you, too."

"Yay," she said, clapping her hands together quietly.

He wondered then, if she'd ever had someone buy something. Just for her. Or if she'd had to buy everything on her own.

The other thing that came to mind was that this was probably totally against protocol, but he really did think that grenade was joining them in Lola and instead it had bounced back off of Lola's bodywork into the rented Ferrarri and exploded.

Miraculously they all came out unscathed (and by all, yes, he was including Lola) except that his jacket had caught a cinder and he'd had to pull over to put it out on the ground.

It wouldn't kill anyone for Skye to have a new dress.

"How about something really nice?" he asked.

"This place is good," she thumbed over her shoulder.

"Good," he said, nodded. "How about great, though?"

Skye shifted a little. "I dunno, it's just something fun, it doesn't have to be a big hassle."

"Skye," he said. "You're not a hassle, okay? You can have nice things."

He watched her look away, take a deep breath, let it out slowly.

All he'd wanted was a new suit.

This was more important.

****

"Oh, no," she said, shaking her head. "No, Coulson. They will not let me in the front door, I've seen the movie version of this!"

The pitch in her voice had increased slightly as she saw the row of expensive looking stores on the pristine street with the skinny women and the strollers and the dogs.

He pulled Lola into the parking spot (away from all the other cars as much as possible) and turned off the ignition, looking over at her.

"Look at me. I don't have a jacket on. My shirt's...pretty wrinkled," he nodded, after looking down at himself, trying to get her to relax.

"You still have a tie," she said through her teeth, rolling her eyes, "And you just look like you always look."

"What does that mean?" he asked, starting to take his tie off.

She made a face at him, turned towards the motion of him loosening the top two buttons of his shirt and said. "Professional. You always look so...professional."

"And you don't," he said, folding the tie up and laying it on the shifting column.

"No," she said. "I lived in a van and I'm just a hacker."

"Good," he said, he got out of the car and went around to her side, opened the door.

"What are you doing?" she asked, crossing her arms. "I'm not doing this."

He waited for a moment, then held his hand out to her. "I want to see what a hacker in a really great dress looks like."

Skye tweaked her jaw, glared at him.

"That," she said, closing her eyes. "Is abusing SHIELD policy."

"It's not SHIELD's money, Skye, it's mine," he said testily. He was far beyond being professional at this point. This was about a lot of things.

"That is an even bigger no, then," she said.

"This is important," he returned. "I need for you to take this seriously."

"Those things don't matter," she finished, quietly.

He knew what she was saying. She was saying that she didn't. Well, he was going to expose that lie.

"No, but what does matter, is you. Not the things. You. You can have this, Skye."

She slowly looked up at him, made contact.

"Today, you're going to learn what that feels like. Because, someone shot a grenade at you."

Biting her lip, she took his hand, let him pull her up out of Lola.

"And because I want you to."

****

After he got her walking and talking and looking at all the windows, she relaxed and made varying excuses as to why she couldn't go into one shop or the other. None of the mannequins in the windows looked like her, she said. Then, she stopped in front of one and there was the look.

She wanted that dress. Love at first sight.

"You should try it on," he urged.

She rocked back on her heels, looking at him in his rumpled shirt with the sleeves rolled up.

"I dunno," she said, raising an eyebrow. "They might not let you in there."

"They'll let my wallet in there," he said, chuckling.

"Let's do this," she said, putting on her game face as he held the door open and let her make her way in.

The saleswoman approached them, friendly. Just the right amount, he thought.

Skye asked about the dress, the woman brought it to her, politely gauging her size.

He watched Skye finger the price tag on the dress, waiting until the woman had left, before trying to pull it out and examine it.

"No," he said, stopping her with his hand. "Stop thinking about that."

"You can't be serious," she said. 

"Just."

His hand reached out and he caught himself. He'd been thinking about running his thumb along her jawline saying "Just let it go", as a comforting gesture. 

That was just too intimate. The thought. The touching. All of it.

He pulled his hand back. 

The woman returned and handed him a bottled water, leading Skye to the dressing room.

He settled down in the chair and pulled out his phone, started to check some messages, get caught up on the vast administrative portion of his life.

May wanted to know how the mission had gone. Oh, he'd better let her know what was going on, if he waited too long, she'd get worried. He started to text back a response.

"Well?"

Coulson leaned forward in the chair, put his hand against his lower lip. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the saleswoman make a slightly knowing face and then quietly walk away.

"Pretty great," he finally managed.

"Good, so, we agree." Her chin was tilted up slightly. She did that when she was trying to keep her emotions in check.

He had not expected to be so effected by the visual. Of course she was beautiful, and it was a great dress, that color on her. But, his mind immediately went a dozen pretty guilty places. Multiple scenarios. Shocking how quickly you could start with the thought of a hand on a knee separated by a little bit of silk and go...

"Coulson."

"Yes. Get it," he snapped. And quickly dived back down into his phone.

Skye looked down at him, started to say something, but then turned to the saleswoman instead.

"I'm going to need some shoes, too."

 

****

"I go to Enzo," he said with a grin. "Fifth generation. Probably close to retiring now. But, I like his work."

He stopped on the sidewalk as she adjusted her shoes again.

"Hurting?" he asked.

"A little," she said, "I'll be fine."

"Take them off," he said. Pointed at the grass. "Just walk on that. You'll have to look out for dog poop, though."

He lent her his arm so she could steady herself. But, when she was done, she just hooked her arm through his, didn't let go.

"So, Enzo, is he like a super spy outfitter or something?" she asked when they resumed walking.

"Just a really great tailor. Family is all Italian. Calabria. Ever heard of it?"

They finally arrived outside his shop. It was very nondescript. Not fancy at all.

Skye looked down at her dress and the silk and the alternating layers of pale sheer pink and solid coral silk.

"I'm too fancy for this place," she huffed, looking over at him.

"No, you're perfect," he said with a smirk.

That made her blush a little. He was okay with her being the one to blush for a change.

He held open the door and they walked in.

"Sorry I'm late," he said.

The older man just shrugged, looked him over.

"Measurements?"

"Maybe," he said. "I've probably put on some weight from being trapped behind a desk." He shrugged at Skye. "You still have my file?"

He noted Skye wandering around the small shop, eyeing its details. It was the light. 

Yes, the light in here was wonderful.

"Yes. But, remind me, do you dress right or left?"

"Left," he said, awkwardly, turning back towards him, looking down, then stealing a glance back at Skye who was smiling at him and texting things on her phone.

A look of surprise registered on her face and she glanced up from her phone, narrowing her eyes at him.

"You seem tense," the man said. "Relax. We want the right fit."

Smiling sweetly, she sat down in the chair across from them and crossed her hands over her lap.

"Do you like the pants this loose or maybe more? This is not one of my suits," he continued, "But, nice fabric. No jacket?"

"It caught on fire," Skye said, flatly.

Coulson furrowed his brow in her direction.

"What do you think?" the tailor asked, looking over at Skye.

"About?" she asked.

"The pants."

"Hmmm," she said. "Can I...see it both ways?" Her eyes darted up to Coulson's.

"Please."

Coulson stared back at her. What was she? There was an involuntary smile spreading across his face.

Skye was sitting straight up in the chair and drumming her fingers against the seat cushion.

"Let me get my tape," the man said, sighing deeply.

****

They had left the tailor's and Skye was laughing at him, laughing, when he told her he might not get his suit for six months, maybe longer.

Stumbling out, really. 

She was flushed and lively, her shoes still in one hand. 

She seemed confident and exploring that new thing, always pushing his boundaries.

He didn't know what he was. 

Yeah. He did. He'd just forgotten what that felt like. He'd put it away.

For a very long time.

"What was all this for?" she asked, landing her feet on the grass again.

He knew what she was really asking was about the whole day. About them. Because, there was a definite charge in the air, and he was doubting all self control at this point. He couldn't tamp it down or turn it off anymore.

"Blow off some steam," he breathed out. "Not be in the base for a change."

Not be in the base. In my office. With you.

"Let's blow off some steam," she said, her eyes flickering over to him.

They got into Lola and drove down Ocean Drive, but away from the ocean. There was an awkward silence hanging over them.

"You want to drive Mulholland?" he asked, turning the car onto the freeway. "Lola loves its curves."

Yes, he just said that. And he meant it. Shit.

"I have all the faith in Lola," Skye said. "But I'd like to see how she handles."

She sat back in the seat. But her hand. Her hand slid over his thigh.

"Know just the spot," he said, jerking the car into a lower gear on the freeway and taking the nearest exit.

"Of course you do," she replied.

He looked over at her. Her expression reminded him so much of that first mission. After they had dropped off Ace. He'd made her an offer that day, she'd taken it.

They'd been flirting. He was selling her on SHIELD. No, on him.

That had been a good pitch.

"I'm looking forward to the view," he said, taking the side street up the hill. "Been thinking about it all day."

This was going to be better.

****

All he'd wanted was a new suit.

But he was okay with this.

He couldn't believe he was okay with this. But he could.

This was probably the longest afternoon of his life. Longer than one where he'd been tortured, or felt the frustration of defeat, or even a great loss.

Because, he felt alive. 

What he realized, two seconds ago, was that all the things he'd thought he'd wanted, all the things he'd told himself he had to give up when he joined SHIELD?

He had them. Somehow, he'd been given it all back. 

He'd died, and he'd been given it all back. It was right in front of him.

What do you say to that?

And all they were doing was kissing. At a lookout point.

When he'd parked the car, after all their charged conversation and their coy show of words, they'd just gotten out of Lola and stood over the city, looking away into the distance.

He'd slipped his arm around her then.

And as her eyes had slowly moved up to his, he remembered wanting to touch her face earlier, trace his finger along her jaw.

So, he did.

Somehow his finger became fingers and he was staring into her eyes and his fingers were holding her cheek while his thumb lightly pressed against her chin.

She was staring up into him. He could feel her pulse through his hand. So fast. They.

He kissed her slowly. Aching.

That was it.

Looking into her eyes, he pulled away, gave her a moment.

For him to know. Really know.

All it took was her tracing glance over his mouth and a slight reaching, that upward tilt of her head, as she gazed at him, and then he pressed his mouth down on hers, wanting to give her more. His hand ran down her neck, brushing her skin along the dip in her throat as they both made small agreeing noises, and he chuckled and then pulled away.

He looked at her soft lips, her bright eyes.

"This is what matters to me. You."

"I've been in love with you..." she confessed, biting her lip. He pulled her in to wrap his arms around her. Felt her hug him.

They had touched one another before, even comforted one another like this before. 

This felt so solid and so different.

"Good," he said, whispering husky into her ear. "So, we agree."

She pushed away, hand against his chest and then leaned into him, kissing, pulling him into her by his shirt.

"Skye."

It came out like a whisper. 

Like the most natural thing in the world.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Partners](https://archiveofourown.org/works/2220027) by [nausicaa_of_phaeacia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nausicaa_of_phaeacia/pseuds/nausicaa_of_phaeacia)




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